


Little Things

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Fluff, Harry Styles Loves Louis Tomlinson, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Love Confessions, M/M, Romance, Singing, Smut, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28635297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Four years after the famous boy band One Direction announced their hiatus, Harry is still going strong with his solo career. To the world, he’s a happy-go-lucky guy with an impeccable sense of fashion. But behind the cameras, he’s tired, heartbroken, and angry. Tired from pretending. Heartbroken from the blue-eyed boy that abandoned him all those years ago. Angry from his own stupidity that led him to let Louis slip through his fingers. Harry runs into the boys at a café one day and he realizes just how much he misses Louis. And when they’re reunited and begin to talk again, they become closer than they’ve ever been.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 33





	1. Larry Stylinson

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t mean any disrespect towards Louis or Harry. This is purely for my entertainment and that of my other Larrys. Please enjoy!
> 
> This story is also up on Wattpad, if you prefer to read there.

**Five Years Ago...**

The thing about being famous is that everyone knows your name; your face; your life. Everyone knows who you are, and everyone wants to learn everything about you. Everyone wants to know your business.

But I didn’t want them to know. I didn’t want them fishing around in my head, learning all my secrets. I didn’t know if I wanted to continue this path. I didn’t know if... if maybe I wanted to give up. Give up this job. Give up... me.

And the day I told everyone the truth... that’s the day it all fell apart.

We were in an interview. I was sitting on a couch, in between Louis and Zayn. I was subconsciously running a hand up and down Louis’s thigh. I don’t think either of us noticed.

And then—

“So, do any of you supposedly single boys have someone special?” the interviewer asked.

I chuckled softly. If I ever tried to picture someone I liked, the only face I saw was one with high cheekbones and beautiful blue eyes. “Uh, no. No one.” I squeezed Louis’s leg reassuringly before pulling my hand away.

“No one?” the woman asked. “Really?”

“Well, when you’re traveling the road as much as we do, it’s hard to have time to stop and talk,” I explained. “And if you’re ever out in public, chances are that the person you’re interested in is surrounded by a bunch of fans.”

“Besides, the kinds of people Harry’s looking for are the _crazy_ fans,” Liam said with a soft chuckle. He immediately froze after that.

Everyone turned to look at him, me glaring.

“What do you mean, ‘the kinds of people Harry’s looking for?’” the interviewer asked.

“Uhm...” Liam trailed off.

I felt a hand on my arm and turned to see that it was Louis’s. He smiled and nodded encouragingly. I nodded back and him and inhaled deeply before turning back to the woman.

“Well, um...” I hesitated, but went on. “Surprise, surprise, I’m... bisexual.” I did little jazz hands and chuckled nervously.

Zayn nudged my arm in assurance, which made me smile a bit.

The woman grinned. “Congratulations, Harry. That’s big news.”

“Yeah, it’s, um,”—I chuckled—“it’s _really_ big news, but, erm...” I turned to look into those adoring blue eyes. “It’s totally worth it.”

*******

“For the last time, Harry, I don’t care about your fucking chicken!” Niall stood up quickly, wearing the fluffy blanket like a cape.

“But Niall—” I reached for him.

“Nope! I’m going to sleep. You’ve kept me up late at night for _weeks_ , and I need my beauty rest! Wake me up next month.” He stormed out of the room, the blanket trailing after him.

I sighed and leaned back into the couch. I picked up my phone to check the time.

_23:46._

I put my phone down, closed my eyes, and let out a deep breath.

Suddenly, I felt hands on my shoulders, and then soft lips against my ear. “What are you doing up, Hazza?”

I smiled and kept my eyes shut. I didn’t have to look to see who it was—I just placed a hand over his. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, my poor baby.” Louis’s voice was muffled by my thick and curly hair and sent a chill down my spine.

I chuckled. “What about you? You should be in bed.”

“I was up to get some water.” I let go of his hand, which prompted him to trail his own down my chest.

I inhaled shakily. “Or maybe... you were waiting for me to come join you?”

Louis giggled. “In your dreams, Styles.”

He nibbled lightly at my neck and pressed a kiss to the skin. I absentmindedly tilted my head to allow him more access. I hadn’t actually _meant_ for him to keep kissing me, but he did. And I wasn’t complaining. He moved his hands further down until he reached my thighs and he squeezed rather roughly. I tried desperately not to moan when he nipped at my ear and I ran a hand through his hair. It took a whole lot of self control not to turn my head and kiss him right then and there. “L-Louis...”

He hummed against my skin to acknowledge me.

“Y-You should”—my breath hitched—“go to bed.”

He placed his hands back on my shoulders and lifted his head up to whisper in my ear. “Yeah?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah...”

“Well, then.” He pressed one final kiss to my cheek and patted my arm. “Night, Haz.”

“G’night, Lou.” When I heard the sound of receding footsteps, I finally opened my eyes. I shifted in my seat to find my jeans tighter than usual, so I glanced down, only to confirm my suspicions. I leaned my head back against the back of the couch and exhaled sharply. “Oh, fuck.”

*******

We were at a show. I was sitting on a ledge, Zayn and Louis on one set of stairs, Niall and Liam on the other. Niall’s guitar filled the unnaturally quiet arena, followed by Zayn’s voice.

_“Your hand fits in mine like it’s made just for me, but bear this in mind it was meant to be. And I’m joining up the dots with the freckles on your cheeks, and it all makes sense to me.”_

Then Liam.

_“I know you’ve never loved the crinkles by your eyes when you smile. You’ve never loved your stomach or you thighs—the dimples on your back at the bottom of your spine—but I’ll love them endlessly.”_

And then the both of them.

_“I won’t let these little things slip out of my mouth. But if I do, it’s you, oh, it’s you they added up to. I’m in love with you and all these little things.”_

Louis was next.

_“You can’t go to bed without a cup of tea. Maybe that’s the reason that you talk in your sleep. And all these conversations are the secrets that I keep, though it makes no sense to me.”_

And then me.

_“I know you’ve never loved the sound of your voice on tape. You never want to know how much you way. You still have to squeeze into your jeans, but you’re perfect to me.”_

With a shaky breath, I continued, looking straight at Louis. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna fucking do it.

_“I won’t let these little things slip out of my mouth. But if it’s true, it’s you, it’s you they add up to. I’m in love with Lou and all his little things.”_

Louis’s eyes widened and he stared at me in shock. I smiled at him and he smiled back before looking down at his feet.

_“You never love yourself half as much as I love you. And you never treat yourself right, darling, but I want you to. If I let you know I’m here for you, maybe you’ll love yourself like I love you.”_

_“And I’ve just let these little things slip out of my mouth. ‘Cause it’s you, oh, it’s you, it’s you they add up. I’m in love with you and all these little things. I won’t let these little things slip out of my mouth. But if it’s true, it’s you, oh, it’s you they add up to. I’m in love with you and all your little things.”_

*******

Louis refused to talk to me. He hadn’t even _looked_ at me until about three days later, in an interview.

“So, Harry, the whole world is talking about your ‘Little Things’ love confession,” the man said.

“Are they? Really?” I worried at my bottom lip and twirled the ring on my hand around and around at a quick pace.

He chuckled. “Yes, they are. And they want to know if you meant it.”

“Did you?”

I looked up at Louis and frowned. “What?”

“Mean it?” He sounded irritated. “Did you mean it?” He was sitting on the opposite side of the couch and was wringing out his hands.

I gripped my ring tightly and looked down at my feet. _C’mon, think, Harry, think! Deflect! Don’t tell the truth!_ “Erm, well, you have to understand that the, um... the fans like to see certain things. They like to... imagine, I guess. ‘Larry Stylinson’”—I put quotes around the words—“is the biggest thing they’ve come up with. They... they love to find little things that could possibly prove their theories.”

“That’s not an _answer_ , Harry,” Louis spat. “Did you mean it, or not?”

I thought for a moment. I could tell the truth and risk everything Louis and I had, only to make the fans happy. Or I could stay quiet and make the world mad, possibly regretting it for the rest of my life. So, I said, “No. No, I didn’t mean it.”

And that was possibly the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. Lying like that. Telling him I didn’t mean it when, in fact, I _did_ mean it.

Even though I didn’t know it yet, for the next five years, I’d lay awake every night, regretting my decision. Regretting having lost my best friend.

Regretting having lost the love of my life.


	2. Tea

**Present Day (2019)**

_“Walk in your rainbow paradise. Strawberry lipstick state of mind. I get so lost inside your eyes. Would you believe it?”_

_“You don’t have to say you love me. You don’t have to say nothing. You don’t have to say you’re mine.”_

_“Honey, I’d walk through fire for you. Just let me adore you. Oh, honey, I’d walk through fire for you. Just let me adore you. Like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do. Like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do.”_

I sang with pride and confidence in my voice. I tried to keep my eyes open to avoid picturing _him_ , but because of how passionate I was—screw my parents for making me this way—I couldn’t stop myself from clenching them shut. And I couldn’t stop myself from going back to those days in the tour bus when I’d sneak into his bunk and cuddle up next to him. Feeling his body pressed up against mine; his hands in my thick hair; his lips smiling against my skin—

“Alright, that’s it for today, Styles.”

I blinked a few times. I hadn’t even realized the song had ended.

“Harry? Did you hear me? I said you’re done.”

I looked up at the man giving me an odd look from behind the glass and quickly cleared my throat. “Oh. Right.” I pulled off my headphones and set them beside me. With a shaky breath, I pushed open the door of the recording room and stepped out.

*******

Sitting in the back of the black SUV of my own, I suddenly had a craving. I leaned forward and stuck my head into the driver’s seat. “Hey, Beckett?”

My driver glanced at me in the rear view mirror. “What is it, Harry?”

“Could we stop for some tea?” I asked, tapping my fingers along the leather seat beside me. “I need a caffeine boost.”

“We’ve got to get back to the hotel before sixteen hundred,” Beckett said. “It’s 15:30 now, and it takes twenty minutes to get there. We don’t have _time_ for tea.”

“C’mon, Becky.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get you something.”

He glanced at me again, stayed silent for a moment, sighed, and then said, “There’s a café about two minutes out of the way. We... should be able to make it there in time.”

I grinned and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “This is why I love you.”

*******

We pulled into the parking lot. I put on my sunglasses and adjusted my suit jacket. I was about to get out when Beckett said, “Make sure to get me something.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I said. “Coffee, right?”

“Black,” he said.

“You got it.” I opened the door and quickly stepped out. The café was relatively quiet, except for a few people here and there. It was a crisp December afternoon, and I was thankful that I had remembered a coat.

I approached the counter and quickly placed a few pounds on the counter. “One English Breakfast tea and one black coffee, please.”

The barista took the money without even looking at me and went to making the drinks. I glanced around to find two girls at a table whispering and looking at me, so I turned around just as quickly. I tapped my foot impatiently. Being recognized would only delay us farther and Beckett was a real jerk when he was stressed. I didn’t need that right now.

The woman set the two to-go cups on the counter, and that’s when she finally looked up at me. “Oh, my God! Harry St—”

“Shh, shh, shh,” I said quickly. “Please lower your voice. I’m incognito.”

Luckily, she was in too much shock to say anything.

“Thank you for the drinks”—I glanced at her name tag—“Emerson, but I really should be going—”

“Harry?”

I froze. No. No, no, no, no, no. This was _not_ happening. Only one person in the entire world had an Irish accent that thick. Well, only one person that would recognize me.

Slowly, I put on a fake smile and turned around. “Niall! What... what are you doing here?”

“The boys and I come here all the time,” he said. “It’s right in between our recording studios.”

When Niall said ‘the boys,’ that’s when I noticed who was with him. A man with brown hair and brown eyes, and a man with sharp features and the slightest bit of stubble. I looked at him, only to find him glaring back. I quickly looked away. “Oh. I... didn’t know.”

“You should sit with us,” Niall suggested. “Have a chat.”

“I’d love to, but I can’t,” I said. “Gotta get back to the hotel. Big show tomorrow.”

“Oh.” He sounded a bit disappointed. “Maybe another time, then?”

I checked my non-existent watch. “Would you look at the time? I’d better go.” I sped away from them, trying to make it look like I was desperate to leave. Don’t think it worked very well.

“Wait, Harry, you forgot your drinks—!”

But I was already inside the car.

Beckett turned around to look at me as I fastened my seatbelt and took off my glasses. “Where’s my coffee?”

“Just drive, Beckett, drive,” I snapped. “Get me the fuck out of here.”

He gave me an odd look, then started the car and drove off.


	3. Sick

I woke up with a headache that morning. Migraines were normal, so I didn’t think too much about it. I took the usual pain killer and went on with my day.

Big mistake.

I was in an interview. Everything was going fine. At least until I started to sweat.

I was wearing a big suit. We were in LA. I figured the heat was normal. But as the interview went on, it only got worse.

I tugged at the collar of my shirt, feeling almost as if I were choking. I unfastened the first button, thinking that would help. When it didn’t, it undid the next one. And then the next. Eventually, I just took off my blazer and rolled up the sleeves of my button down.

“You alright, ‘arry?” the interviewer asked. “You look a bit pale.”

“I’m f-fine,” I stammered. I ran a hand through my hair and was surprised to find it practically plastered to my forehead with sweat. “Is anyone else warm?”

“Oh is it too hot? Reggie, turn down the thermostat for me, will ya? Thanks, love.”

I waited a few minutes, but my predicament only seemed to get worse. At some point, I was even hit with a wave of nausea that made me want to vomit right then and there. But I pushed through.

The second the cameras were cut off, I raced out of there faster than you could tell me to get out of your kitchen and hurried to my room. We’d done the interview in the lobby of the hotel, seeing as it had been reserved for me, anyways. And it was a large enough space for all their equipment.

I shut the door to my room behind me and ran into the bathroom. I crouched down in front of the toilet—just in time, too—and retched right into it. I always hated it when I threw up. The way my whole body spasmed and it scraped my throat raw. It was disgusting.

I tore off my shirt as I continued until I could barely move. I collapsed against the wall, my breathing labored and shallow. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to catch my breath.

My phone started ringing. I opened my eyes and with a feat of Herculean strength, managed to fish it out of my coat pocket. With two quick taps, I answered the call and put it on speaker.

_“Harry?”_ the voice asked.

“Liam?” I managed in a croaky voice.

_“You alright?”_ Liam asked. _“You sound awful.”_

I tried to adjust my position, but only got as far as moving my right leg about half an inch. “I’ve been... better. Wh-What is this about?”

_“Okay, erm, this is gonna sound weird, but”_ —he inhaled— _“can I have three VIP tickets to your next concert?”_

I frowned. “Liam, we talk, like, once a year, and now you want tickets to a concert? Why?”

There was a bit of rustling from Liam’s end. Then, _“No, I won’t tell him that, Lou.”_ His voice sounded distant. He obviously wasn’t talking to me. After what felt like an eternity, he finally said, _“It’s a secret?”_

I chuckled weakly. “Fine. Sure. Three VIP tickets to my next concert.”

_“Thanks, Harry,”_ he said.

“Save it, Payno.” I hung up on him and picked up my phone. With shaky hands, I clicked on a contact I hadn’t used in years. The last time I texted him was in 2014. That was even before the hiatus.

I typed out a simple message.

**Me**  
**17:28**  
We need to talk.

*******

The internet had somehow gotten wind of my ‘episode.’ By the next day, Gemma had already sent me about six articles of how I had looked like shit on live television. I was about ready to throw my phone out the window.

But I ignored this and went on as if nothing had happened. As if I hadn’t spent literally all of last night puking my guts out.

I’m sure I was fine. People get sick. It happens. It was a one time thing.

At least I hoped so.

I took a sip of my tea while scrolling through Twitter. That’s when I saw _it_.

‘Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Harry Styles spotted at café. Do we see a possible reunion in our future?’

I nearly spat out my tea. What?! How did people already know about that?!

I sighed in defeat, knowing there was nothing I could do about it. So, I kept scrolling. But it only got worse from there.

‘Is no one talking about the fact that ‘Sweet Creature’ is 100% about Louis?’

‘NOT LOUIS SPENDING MORE TIME GETTING TEA W/ THE BOYS THAN W/ HIS FOOKING GF!’

‘so we’re just ignoring Harry’s whole Doc Holliday vibe?’

I put my phone down and rubbed at my eyes with the heel of my palms. Sometimes I just hated social media.

*******

I was tossing and turning that night, unable to fall asleep. Usually—with a bit of melatonin—I was out like a light. But not tonight.

With a frustrated grumble, I tore back the duvet cover and stomped into the bathroom. I flicked on the light, blinking a few times as my eyes adjusted to the sudden glare.

When I could see again, I looked at myself in the mirror. Something was different about me. I could feel it. I’d changed somehow, and I really don’t think it was a physical kind of change.

I’d been paranoid about that whole ‘getting sick’ thing, but I think I understand it now. I’d heard of people having panic attacks that led to them throwing up. That’s what it was. I wasn’t _actually_ sick. I was just paranoid. Stressed. Not that being paranoid or stressed was any better. But at least I wasn’t about to go full Satine in ‘Moulin Rouge’ on the world.

I heard a soft buzzing, so I walked out of the bathroom to see my phone lit up on the bedside table. I picked it up and almost immediately dropped it again when I saw who’d texted me. But I held on.

**Louis**  
**03:04**  
I know.


	4. Concert

It was three hours before the concert was supposed to start. I was pacing around the hotel room, running my hands through my hair and mumbling to myself. To any random person walking down the street, they’d think me mad.

There was a knock on the door. “Harry? You okay in there?”

“Fine!” I called. I recognized that voice. It was Beckett.

“You sure?” he asked.

“I’m sure!” I said.

“Harry, can I come in?” he asked.

I worried at my bottom lip and sighed. “Alright.”

Beckett pushed open the door, shutting it behind him. He was the kind of guy you saw in modeling catalogs. He had sandy blonde hair that he never styled, but still looked incredibly good in. His eyes were a deep amber brown, almost orange. He had a solid build, with large biceps and a chest that almost strained against his shirt. He was impossibly sexy.

When he noticed me standing in the middle of the room, hair all messed up, he smirked. “‘I’m fine’ my arse.”

“What can I say?” I asked. “I hate it when you worry about me.” I turned around to face my mirror and quickly started to attack my hair with a comb, trying to get it to stay down. It didn’t work so well.

Suddenly, I felt hands on my shoulders and looked in the mirror to find Beckett standing behind me. I groaned. “Not now. I’ve got a show.”

“Yeah, in three hours.” He pressed his body closer to mine and trailed his hands down my back until he reached my waist. He nipped at my ear, which I huffed at.

“I hate you so much,” I said.

“Yes, but you seem to love it when you’re fucking me,” he whispered seductively in my ear.

A shiver went down my spine. I glanced at the clock. I mean, we had enough time...

“Oh, fuck you.” I whirled around and slammed him against the nearest wall, which he grinned at.

“That’s it, Harry,” he said in a breathy voice.

“Shut up.” I grabbed his strong arms and pinned them above his head before kissing him roughly. I gripped his shirt and pulled it out from where it was tucked into his pants before using my one free hand to start unbuttoning it.

He squirmed under me, no doubt trying to free his arms, but I held him tight. He may have the bigger muscles, but I wasn’t about to let him go.

I stopped kissing him and moved to his neck, instantly sucking a large bruise into the skin. He moaned softly in my ear, which made me swear under my breath. My trousers were _not_ this tight a minute ago.

Once I finally got the last button of his shirt undone, I started to trace his hard muscles, hearing as his breathing gradually got heavier and heavier.

“C’mon, Harry,” he panted. “Stop teasing.”

I smirked and moved my lips to his ear. “Alright.” I quickly dropped to my knees, letting his arms fall down to his sides. I looked up at him as I started at his belt, licking my lips.

I discarded his belt and quickly pulled down his trousers, and then his underwear. I kept my eyes on Beckett as I worked, watching every expression that crossed his face. He used one hand to grip the shelf beside him and used the other to grip my hair tightly. I winced at the burning pain in my scalp, but didn’t pull his hand away. He was letting out loud moans that I’m sure the neighbors could here, but I didn’t stop him. And when he met my gaze, he instantly threw his head back and groaned something that sounded like, “cheekbones.” I kept at it until he was finished and raised myself up again to kiss him.

“I never understood how you could possibly be so good at that,” he whispered into my mouth.

I smirked. “It’s a secret.” I grabbed his bottom lip between my teeth and bit lightly.

When I let go, he asked, “Don’t I get to return the favor?”

I placed a hand on his exposed chest, right over his star tattoo. “Only if you’re up for it.”

“I’ve been... practicing,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Beckett, have you been going around sucking random guys’ cocks?”

“Why, are you jealous?” he smirked.

I rolled my eyes and spun us around so I was the one with my back against the wall. “Just shut up and blow me.”

He did what I said and dropped to his knees. He quickly pulled off my trousers and underpants and went to work. Apparently, ‘practicing’ meant suddenly being able to deep throat, because that is exactly what he did. I gasped loudly at this and muttered a few words that probably would’ve gotten me soap for dinner. I had to place both hands in his hair to keep myself steady, because _damn_ he got good at this. He had me gone quicker than he usually did, and I didn’t even have enough strength to pull him to his feet.

When he stood up, he was smiling. “Not bad?”

“Who the hell... have you been... blowing?” I asked through soft breaths.

He smirked and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “So good, then, yeah?”

I nodded frantically. “ _Very_ good.”

He chuckled softly before kissing me one more time and pulling away. He pulled his pants back up, retrieving his belt from the floor.

I pulled my own pants back up and touched my head gingerly from wear it was stinging from Beckett’s tight grip.

He approached the door and paused with his hand on the door knob. “You better be ready. You’ve got a show in three hours.”

I flipped him the bird as he left with a laugh, closing the door behind him.

*******

The concert was going well. No technical difficulties of any kind and a crowd full of screaming fan girls. I was hoping to make it through the last song without any inconveniences.

But the universe is always against me.

My guitar was in my hand. The crowd was humming something. I approached the microphone and tried to shush them softly. When they wouldn’t stop, I decided to listen.

_“...give up everything just ask me to. Pay attention, I hope that you listen, ‘cause I let my guard down. Right now I’m completely defenseless.”_

_“For your eyes only, I’ll show you my heart. For when you’re lonely and forget who you are. I’m missing half of me when we’re apart. For your eyes only. For your eyes only.”_

With a small smile, I started strumming along. I joined in, singing Louis’s part.

_“I’ve got scars, even though they can’t always be seen. And pain gets hard, but now you’re here and I don’t feel a thing.”_

_“Pay attention, I hope that you listen, ‘cause I let my guard down. Right now I’m completely defenseless.”_

_“For your eyes only, I’ll show you my heart. For when you’re lonely and forget who you are. Now you know me. For your eyes only. For your eyes only.”_

_“I can feel your heart inside of mine.”_

_“I feel it, I feel it.”_

_“I’ve been going out of my mind.”_

_“I feel it, I feel it.”_

_“Know that I’m just wasting time and I hope that you won’t run from me.”_

I thought ‘If I Could Fly’ was as far as we were gonna get that day. I thought that there was nothing that could surprise me more. But I was wrong.

_“For your eyes only...”_

I froze. That wasn’t me singing, and it certainly wasn’t the crowd.

 _“I’ll show you my heart.”_

Again, not me. I looked around frantically and finally spotted them. Three incredibly familiar men leaning over the edge of the VIP box, smiling down at me. I was in so much shock that I almost missed my cue.

Almost.

_“For when you’re lonely...”_

_“And forget who you are.”_

_“I’m missing half of me when we’re apart. Now you know me. For your eyes only.”_

_“For your eyes only, I’ll show you my heart. For when you’re lonely and forget who you are. I’m missing half of me when we’re apart. Now you know me. For your eyes only.”_

I locked eyes with Louis as I sang the last line.

_“For your eyes only.”_


	5. Get Out

I tore the devices from my ears and placed them down on the table in my dressing room.

A knock on the door. “Harry, the boys are here to see you.”

I set my mouth in a thin line. “Let them in.”

My back was to the door, so I didn’t see it open. But I heard it.

“Harry—”

I whirled around, fuming. “What the hell are you doing here?!” I was asking all three, but glaring at Louis.

“Harry—” Liam tried again.

“No.” I shook my head quickly. “No! I didn’t _ask_ for you to come here! Now, leave before I call security.”

“I called you up!” Liam argued. “I asked you for three VIP tickets! I figured you’d be smart enough to piece it together!”

“I wasn’t feeling well!” I shouted. “Okay?! I wasn’t... I wasn’t _thinking_ straight!”

“So you admit it then?” Niall asked, taking a step forward. “Something’s wrong. You’re _sick_.”

“I am _not_ — gah!” I ripped off my jacket, most likely actually ripping it in the process. I pushed up the sleeves of my blouse and collapsed on the couch, sprawling out without a care in the world. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

“Harry—”

The door flew open, cutting Liam off for about the third time. My head snapped up to see Beckett standing there, his usual black suit jacket discarded and his sleeves rolled up. He glanced around at the boys before his eyes finally settled on me.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered. I’d told him to meet me here, in the dressing room, after the show was over. For a little stress relief. And I’d completely forgotten.

“Sorry,” Beckett murmured. “Didn’t know you had company.”

I shot to my feet. “Wait, Beckett—!”

He left the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Great,” I sighed. “Now, I’ve got _another_ mess to clean up.”

“Harry—”

“Shut up!” I spat. Four times.

“No, _you_ shut up!” I turned to Louis, who was glaring at me, his hands clenched into fists. “You pretentious bastard! Can’t you see? We’re trying to _help_ you! Get your fucking act together! If the world knew that this is how the great Harry Styles _really_ acted, you’ll be kicked to the curb. Open your eyes, for fuck’s sake, Harry! I would say not to chase us a way for a second time, but it’s too fucking late for that.” He stormed out of the room, not even bothering to shut the door behind him.

I stared at the empty spot where Louis had been standing a moment ago, blood rushing in my ears. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Niall try to take a step towards me, but I cut him off by yelling, “For the last _fucking_ time, _get the fuck out_!”

Liam stared at me, face set. “You know, Louis was right. This was a mistake.” He left as well.

Niall glanced between me and the doorway. “Look, Harry, I—”

I cut him off with a sharp glare, which he flinched at. Before I could yell at him again, he ran out.

*******

About five minutes after texting Beckett to come to my dressing room, there was a knock at the door. I crossed the room and opened it, revealing the man I was waiting for.

I let out a sharp breath. “Beckett.”

He gave me a small smile, but wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Hey.”

“Uhm, come in.” I moved aside to let him in. The second he walked past me, I closed the door.

He looked around before turning back to me. “So what did you want to talk ab— mph!”

I cut him off by grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and crashing his lips to my own. I pulled away after a few moments and pressed our foreheads together. “I know I pissed you off. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even know they were coming.”

Beckett sighed. “It’s fine.”

I smiled. “All’s forgiven?”

He rolled his eyes, but I caught the smirk tugging at his full lips. “All’s forgiven.”

I kissed him again, this time with a lot more heat. He cupped my face with one hand and put the other in my hair. I growled low in my throat when he tugged lightly and pushed him forward until the backs of his knees hit the couch. Before he could fall down onto it, however, I turned us around so _I_ fell onto the couch.

I pulled him down so he was straddling my lap and gripped his thighs tightly. I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth, making him moan loudly.

He ducked his head down and started at my neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses in his path. I tilted my head back to allow him a better angle and I let out soft groans as he bit and sucked. Basically unconsciously, I slid my hands down his back until I reached his ass and squeaked firmly.

Beckett let out a gasp and smacked my chest lightly. “Harry!”

I chuckled softly. “Sorry, babe.”

He shifted around and I gasped when I felt the bulge in his pants rubbing against my own. I moaned out his name and threw my head back. “Fuck.”

Beckett smirked and rolled his hips, knowing full well what he was doing to me.

With a grunt, I grabbed him by his shoulders and flung him down onto the couch so I was hovering on top of him. I kissed him roughly and pulled off his belt.

He moaned when I bit down on his lip and I quickly pulled down both his pants and underwear. I then undid my own belt, unzipped my pants, pulled down my underwear just enough to pull out my hard cock, and slammed up into him.

*******

Beckett and I were laying on the couch in my dressing room, a blanket pulled up to our waists. He had his head on my chest and I was playing with his soft golden hair. There was a silence, but it was the nice kind.

“Harry?” he asked.

I hummed.

“Erm, please don’t take this the wrong way but, uh...” He took a deep breath. “Are you still in love with him?”

I looked down at him, frowning. “What?”

He pursed his lips. “Louis.” He looked up at me through his thick eyelashes. “Are you still in love with him?”

My frown deepened. “Of course not. It’s been years. We don’t even talk.” But even as I said it, I knew it was a lie. In the words of a song we wrote years ago, I was still truly, madly, deeply in love with him.


	6. Lunch Date

That day was going surprisingly well. It was rather warm out and the sun was shining. I felt on top of the world. As if nothing could go wrong.

But...

**Louis**  
 **14:33**  
lunch tomorrow @ the park. take it or leave it.

A chance to see Louis? Of course I said—

**Me**  
 **14:34**  
I’m taking it.

And of course he replied with—

**Louis**  
 **14:34**  
u better not fuck it up this time.

I didn’t know what to say to that. That’s why I left him on read.

*******

The park was quiet. Not a single person in sight. It was weird.

The fact that there was no one led to me believe that Louis, too, had not shown. But he never disappoints.

I spotted him sitting on a park bench, his hair ruffling in the breeze. He had on a big jacket and was staring out over the frozen pond.

I approached the bench from behind. “Louis?”

He was silent for a moment. Then, “Sit. Might as well make yourself comfortable for this incredibly awkward conversation.”

I did as he said, rounding to the front of the bench and plopping down on the dark wood. He had chosen to sit at the very edge of it, so I decided that I’d should too. There was too much space in between us for my liking.

Neither of us said anything for a long time. For a while, the only sound was that of the wind and the occasional laugh from passing people. But never a word.

At least until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Louis, I’m sorry. I—”

“Me first,” he snapped, not even sparing me a glance. I let him continue. “I assume you’ve puzzled together by now how I felt about you back then.”

I nodded.

“And _I’ve_ puzzled together how _you_ felt about _me_ back then,” he said. “You”—he hesitated—“you really loved me, didn’t you?”

I looked down at my hands, which were clasped tightly together. They were cold. I should’ve brought gloves. “Yes. I loved you. Did you...” An inhale. “Did _you_ love _me_?”

Silence. “Yes.”

I waited to see if he would say anymore. When he didn’t, I looked back up and at him. “Where do we go from here, Lou? You hated me after what I did. After I lied. That’s not going to be an easy fix.”

He sighed and hung his head. That was the first movement I’ve seen from him. “I know. But... we can do it, right?”

I frowned. “What are you saying?”

He looked me in the eye. I was surprised to see his usually smiling blue eyes rimmed with tears. “Will you, Harry Styles, be my friend again?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “That depends. Will you, Louis Tomlinson, be _my_ friend again? Even after all that I did?”

He smiled back at me. “Where do I sign, Chief?”

I chuckled. “You wouldn’t mind if I... if I hugged you, would you?”

As an answer to my question, he scooted forward on the bench and wrapped his arms around me and buried his face into the crook of my neck. I hugged him back, pulling him dangerously close to my body. I smiled.

“I’ve missed hugging you,” he said with a soft chuckle that was muffled by my scarf.

“I’ve missed _you_ ,” I whispered into his hair.

I could almost feel him smile.

*******

“You’re late.”

I froze. Oh, shit.

I turned around to face Beckett, who was wearing sweatpants and a sleeveless sweatshirt. He was leaning against the door jamb, his face hard in anger.

“You said fifteen,” he snapped. “It’s _seventeen_. Maybe you should’ve waited another year before your X-Factor audition. Think you skipped a year of math.” He walked forward into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl.

“Sorry, Mum,” I grumbled sarcastically. “Didn’t know I still had a curfew.”

He rolled his eyes. “I was waiting for you, y’know.”

I crossed the room to meet him, stopping a few feet away. I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? How so?” I ran a hand through my hair.

“Well...” He stepped closer to me and started to toy with the buttons on my shirt. “I was jerking off to the thought of you, just waiting for you to get home. I was so hard, not letting myself come. I wanted _you_ to make me. But you never came.”

I gulped nervously when he got even closer so our lips were barely a breath away. “Wha-What’d you do then?”

“Well, once I decided you weren’t going to show”—he moved his lips to my ear and lowered his voice to a whisper—“I lifted three of my fingers to my mouth and sucked on them.” He held up three fingers, just like he said, and positioned them so they were hovering dangerously close to my mouth. “And then I fucked myself on my fingers, pretending it was you.” I let my eyes flutter shut and tried not to moan as I pictured Beckett splayed out on the bed, legs spread, hands fisted in the bedsheets, fingers deep inside himself. “I imagined it was your big, hard cock fucking me as hard as you can.” My eyes flew open and a gasp escaped my lips when he suddenly grabbed me through my pants and started to roughly palm me through the material. I let out a huff, but didn’t moan. He pressed his lips even closer to my ear. “And I imagined you were stretching me so fucking good, baby. Hitting that sweet spot over and over again until you had me begging for you to let me come.”

I placed a hand over the one that was jerking me off through my pants. My plan was to force him to stop, but I let go of him when he started to kiss my neck. Instead, I placed my hands behind me on the counter and let him do whatever the fuck he wanted.

“You want me so bad, don’t you?” he asked with a smirk. “Look at you, so desperate to put your cock inside of me. Say it, Harry. Say you want to fuck me.”

I was so overwhelmed by pleasure and the images passing through my head that I wasn’t really thinking. I just said the first thing that came to mind. “I want you to fuck me.”

Beckett stopped his hand. He pulled away to look into my eyes, his face unreadable.

I realized too late what I’d said, but didn’t take it back. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

Suddenly, he flipped me around so my back was to his chest and my stomach was pressed against the counter. He put his hand on the back of my head and not-so-gently pushed me down so I was bent over the counter and, well...

Let’s just say that the things that happened that night are between him and me. But you can probably guess.

A hint? Turns out being fucked is a hell of a lot more fun than fucking.


End file.
